Let It Die
by But I Have Promises To Keep
Summary: Everyone has a ghost story, because true love is eternal, it goes on even after death. Love never fades…but sometimes it's just better to let it die.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, just as a heads-up I might not update this every day like in the past. Most of my writing is stress-writing (meaning I write like crazy when I'm stressed. I pretty much pour my emotions out here so I don't flip out on undeserving bystanders O.o) and since the summer holidays are almost here I certainly won't be under as much pressure as usual. Plus, I won't be stressing as much about my friend (the one I was talking about in another fanfic who has lukemia) because she's doing pretty well! They actually caught the lukemia in a very eary stage so they're hoping she'll return to school in the spring! **

**But anyways, I pretty much wrote this because I've wanted to write it for the longest time and it's been bugging me. I most likely will be continuing this, so please review and tell me what you think!**

* * *

Thirty-two is no age to die, not for anyone. Think about it. It means, for that person, sixteen is middle-aged.

Sixteen should never be middle aged, sixteen is when you learn to drive. Sixteen is when movies and books say magical things will happen to you, when really they don't. No one sits down on their sixteenth birthday and says "I am half-way through with my life".

I didn't do that, but thirty-two is how old I was when I died. Looking at me, at what I do, you'd think I would have been shot. Or blown up. I think it would have been easier if I had.

I drowned, which is one way I never thought I would have died. I could swim, I spent a lot of my childhood in the woods and surrounding ponds and steams! How on earth does someone like that drown? That's one of the first questions I ask myself. But in truth, my drowning couldn't really be helped.

Mal and I were on the way to work, he had just picked me up that fateful morning, when we heard a child's scream. We weren't officially on duty, but what person with even an ounce of decency could just ignore it? We were passing by some docks in a poorer part of town at the time, and I assumed a child must have fallen in the water. Mal and I split up, him going right, myself going left. That's when I saw it, a man drowning a little girl, holding her tiny figure under the water. I yelled something, but I can't remember what. There was a fight, most of which I can't remember, but I know he overpowered me. I'm proud to say I fought hard, and in the end my blood wasn't the only that was spilled.

The last memory I have isn't a pleasant one. I was on the ground. There was hot blood seeping out of the back of my head, made from him hitting me with something heavy. My gun had somehow been lost in the fight, most likely falling off the end of the dock. We weren't in the short part of the dock, where the little girl was drowned, anymore. We were at the end, where nothing but ten meters of open air and a few centimeters of wood separated me from falling into the cold water below. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened after that.

Now, I keep asking myself what would have happened if I had gone right. Or if I told Mal we should have stuck together. All my questions are filled with that horrible word. _If_. If I had hit the snooze button on my alarm that morning, meaning I would have been running late and nowhere near where the girl was being drowned. If I had gone right. If I had drew my gun earlier. I know it does no good thinking these things, most of the answers are self-explanatory. If I had been running late, the little girl's killer would have slipped off into the early morning mist and girl's body might have never been found. If I had gone right, it might have been Mal that had died, and I don't think I could live with myself if that happened. If I had drawn my gun earlier…well, that was my mistake. And it might be the one that cost me my life. The truth is most of these things have so many 'if's and so many 'maybe's that no outcome is certain. Of course, nothing is certain anymore. Not here.

To be honest, I don't really know where 'here' is. I don't remember how I got here. I don't remember waking up. All I know is somehow I found myself sitting on a hillside, my feet dangling off the side of a cliff as I watch what's happening below. I watch the world like it's a TV screen, and I hate it. It's like the people I watch, all of whom I know, are actors on a TV show, like I don't know them anymore. As if they were old friends in high school that I had long since moved past. I can watch, but I can't touch. I can't help.

I watch Mal the most. He called out to me, as I was pushed into the water, and his voice was the last that I heard. He doesn't know it, but as I left the world I felt like I brushed him. Like he was someone I was responsible for now. When I watch him it feels like I'm living through him, like I'm following his life because I've lost my own. I want him here with me, but at the same time I don't. If he were here, he would be dead. Really, I want to be with him. I want my skin to feel warm, to feel breath enter my lungs and the heat of the sun on my back. I want to live again, but I know I can't. So I watch as life goes on without me.

I think that hours have passed since my death, but they still haven't found my body. It had sunk deep into the water, and because of this I don't think Mal can accept I'm gone. He saw my blood, he saw me fall in the water. He saw that I never came back up. But blood, no matter the amount, is not a body. To him, it proves nothing. I think that he figures we'd both survived crazy things before, so why not now? But my luck's run out, and I think part of him knows that. That part of it hit the minute the search went on for my body, the minute someone saw the red-tinged water, approaching him and saying

"I'm sorry for your loss".

After that, calls were made, calls that no one wanted to receive. I was still trying to get my head on straight as the search for my body went on, but I as soon as I got myself together I watched as Mal left soon after hearing the news of my supposed death. I expected him to go home, but instead he went to the station and threw himself into his work. My killer hadn't been apprehended, they had DNA from his blood, but that was it. Mal hadn't even gotten a glance at him before he slipped away. I guess in his mind, catching him had the power to resurrect me. They had identified the little girl, Katelyn Keehl, whom had gone missing two days before. Her heartbroken father had shown up at the docks to identify her body, but Mal didn't stay to watch the scene. I didn't either. That's where Mal starts, looking through file after file for everyone and anyone little six-year-old Katelyn might have known. He could take what he knew down to the lab and have results in minutes, but I think he's doing it manually to keep his mind off things. He acts normal, as if nothing has happened, and for a while no one says anything. They don't know. But within minutes word had spread, and it was Jeremy, Jeremy Redbird, who first approached him.

"I'm sorry for your loss. She was a good Agent" he says.

Mal looks up at him, his face filled with anger as if he's just been horribly insulted. For a moment, I thought he was going to shoot him. But before Mal can say anything Jeremy's walking away, looking slightly flustered. Many others come along, saying the same thing, but Mal barely reacts to the others. Anyone who didn't know Mal like I did would think he's taking my death lightly, that he doesn't care. But I can see it in the way his shoulders droop, the way his eyes look defeated. People talk about me all around him, but he shuts them out. He's focused on finding Katelyn's killer, on my killer.

It's nearly midnight when Captain Yeong sees him, a rather sour look on her face, telling Mal to go home. Her voice is stern, but her eyes are soft and sympathetic. For a moment Mal only glares at her, looking like he's going to protest, but gives up and leaves when he sees her hardened expression. I thought he would wander around, maybe go to a bar, but he doesn't. He goes straight home, and it's as soon as he gets in his door that everything he's hiding from prying eyes comes out. Upon closing the door he turns around, slamming the sides of his fists on the door as if the wood itself has offended him.

"Dammit!".

I watch as he just stands there, and it's clear that he doesn't know what to do. I want to tell him, I want to help.

'_Go to sleep_' I tell him in my mind '_It'll be better in the morning'_.

But he doesn't move, he just keeps standing there. I can't tell what emotion's written on his face. Anger? Grief? Both? I want to reassure him, tell him everything will be alright, as if I'm comforting him because someone other than myself has died.

"Natara?".

I whip around, unsure who to expect to be behind me. I expect someone I know, certainly not a stranger. But when I turn around I know I've never seen this person before. It's a boy, nineteen at the most, with odd roan-colored hair and amber eyes. As our eyes meet he gives a slight nod, as if suggesting I follow him, and walks away. I want to ask him who he is, how he knows my name and why he wants me to follow him, but my questions are suppressed in my throat. It's like I've forgotten to speak. Still, the further away he goes, the more overwhelming the desire to follow him becomes. Without speaking, I pick myself up and run after him, only giving one last glance at the cliff behind me.

'_I'll come back'_ I silently promise myself, running a little faster to catch up to the odd-looking boy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so so much to _Oryt _and _mozzi-girl _for the reviews!**

* * *

I'm led to a place that seems to be a bit of my past, and a bit of what was my present. The hills continue, and sitting atop of one particularly large one is the framiliar structure of the police station. But it's different, it seems almost abandoned. The cityscape that usually surrounds it is missing, replaced by lush gardens that remind me of one of my childhood homes. The odd-looking boy keeps walking, even though I've already stopped.

"Wait" I call, somehow regaining the ability of speach. He stops in his tracks, turning around. He doesn't stand quite straight, he's always hunched over as if waiting to pounce. His face is calm and stoic, his eyes wide with curiosity. The color and shape of his eyes reminds me of a cat, but the color of his hair reminds me of a dog I once has as a child. A greyhound I think. "Who are you?".

"Who do you think I am?" he asks, his voice calm and low.

"I asked you first".

He smiles slightly, and I can now see I may have been mistaken with his age. His face is ageless, he could very well be nineteen, but it wouldn't be a shock if he was in his fourties. "When you can answer my question, you'll get your answer. I'm really nothing more than than a guide that your own mind came up with".

My eyes narrowed with suspicion. What on earth could he mean by that? A figment of my imagination? I'm dead, dead people don't think. My brain doesn't work anymore.

"But I'm dead" I say, my voice slightly shaking. I'm slightly afraid to say it outloud, as if the moment I do so someone will realize I'm not supposed to be here and will take me away. "How could I have thought of you?".

"A mind has nothing to do with the brain, Natara. Mind or soul, they are all one and the same, people just call them different things".

He stares at me for a moment, studying me as if I'm a mildly interesting painting. "So what do I call you then?".

"Whatever you want".

I stare at him. How am I supposed to pick a name for someone I just met? "You decide".

"Fine, call me Mel".

I swallow hard. Mel, Mal, the names are so close that I don't know if I can bring myself to call him that. But at the same time it's because of this I mumble "okay".

Despite the desire to follow Mel only moments before, I badly want to get away, to escape from this boy's piercing gaze.

"You can leave, if you want. I can tell you want to, and I can explain everything else later. Feel free to look around".

I give him a slight nod of thanks and calmly walk away, but as soon as I'm out of his sight I full-on sprint in the direction of the cliff. It doesn't take me long to find it again, even though I had no idea where I was going. I returned to the edge, finding that somehow in the small amount of time I was gone night had come and gone, replaced by morning. Mal's at the station, and I can see that his face is set. Whispers follow him in his wake, and it's not surprising that he avoids others as he works. It's likely people asked what he was even doing here, saying that he should take some time off. But for Mal, catching who's responsible for my death is the most important thing, and I was scared for him. I knew the moment I laid eyes on my killer that there was something off about him, and even if Mal did catch him, would he go as far to risk his own life for it? In the long run, putting his life on the line for this isn't worth it. Just because I'm dead, doesn't mean he has to be too.

It's still early in the morning when Jeremy Redbird approaches Mal again, and he keeps looking over his shoulder as if expecting Anders to come over and reprimand him.

"Hey" he says timidly. Mal ignores him, but I wish he wouldn't.

'_Don't you see?_' I imagine myself saying to him '_He wants to help you_'.

It's clear he's unsure if Mal really heard him, or if he's just ignoring him, but he continues. "You still trying to find…Natara's…killer?". He speaks timidly, clearly trying to tread lightly around the subject. After all, I only died yesterday. Mal doesn't look up, but I notice he's only staring at one spot on the paper he had been reading. He's listening.

"Listen…" Jeremy says. He glances around for a moment, as if making sure no one, especially Anders, is listening. He drops his voice to a whisper "I want to help you".

Finally, Mal looks up at him, slight surprise on his face. "I thought you were the stick-to-protocol, strict kinda guy".

"Usually…yes. But—it's just not fair is it? That she's gone, while the man responsible for it is alive. At the end of the day…does it really matter if we follow protocol to the letter?".

There's a slight tug at the sides of Mal's lips. Not quite a smile, but perhaps the ghost of one. "You're alright, kid".

Jeremy smiles back slightly "If I were you though, considering Anders might take you off the case, I'd lay low for a while. Don't make any big moves until after Natara's funeral".

Both of them fall silent at that last word. A funeral, the final goodbye. The confirmation that I'm gone, and that I'm not coming back.

* * *

My funeral was only two days after that conversation. I think it's because my birthday's so close to my death that they just wanted to have it before I officially would have turned thirty-three. I don't watch most of it, it's too weird. Everyone there acted as upset as you'd expect them to at a funeral, possibly slightly more so considering my funeral was held four days before my birthday and because my body was yet to be found. My mother and sister cried, and my father looked near it. Mal had the same look on his face as the day I died, the same look of helpless defeat. I even think I saw Amy there, which was something I hadn't expected. The mid-October weather complied to the standards of a funeral, and icy buckets of rain poured out of the sky like giant tears. I wait until after the service to look down again, and I watch over Mal. He goes straight to his apartment building, but he doesn't go straight home. He just goes to the roof of the apartment building, and at first I don't know why. For a while he just stands out in the rain, his tie lose and askew, and then I see it. Someone watching him from the doorway, someone with short, dark hair and a slight frame.

"What are you doing?" Amy yells at him, trying to keep dry herself by only standing in the doorway of the stairs that lead to the roof. I know Mal can hear her, but he mockingly holds up a hand to his ear as if he can't. This time Amy cups her hands around her mouth as she yells "This is stupid, come back inside!".

Mal doesn't respond this time, pretending he can't hear her over the heavy rain. I know exactly what he's thinking.

'_If you want to talk to me that badly, then come out here after me'_.

I think Amy realizes this too, because soon after I think this she runs out to him. "This is stupid" she says, her voice raised slightly above the rain "It's pouring, come back inside".

Mal ignores her, suddenly turning to look Amy straight in the eyes "Where were you?".

"What do you mean?".

"Where did you go? We were all worried about you! None of us had any idea where you were! You could have been dead for all we knew…" he trails off, looking down at his feet. Amy blinks away the moisture in her eyes, and I know that it's not just rain.

'_Make her laugh'_ I want to tell him '_she still misses Ken, and this is just bringing it back. It'll be good for both of you, if you just make her laugh. Make her feel like she belongs again'_.

"Do you hear it?" Amy says quietly, whipping her face with the back of her hand. Mal gives her a questioning look, and she adds "the church bells".

Neither of them make a sound for a moment, and after a while the sound penetrates the rain. I can almost hear the questions they're asking themselves. Is it from my funeral? Or maybe someone, somewhere, is having the best day of their life, a wedding.

"Did you catch him?" Amy whispers tearfully after a while.

"No, but I will"

"How?"

"I don't know"

"What will you do when you catch him?".

"I don't know. I can't let him get away with this, so if it comes down to it, I might just slip away and kill him myself".

"When?"

"Soon". Without another word, Mal turns on heel, walking back inside. Amy lets him go, waiting outside in the rain for a while so Mal has a head start and they don't meet again as she leaves. At the same time Mal goes home, and I can almost see the wheels turning. It's the day of my funeral, and he's already thinking of how to bring down the man who caused it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Review Replies:**

**mozzi-girl: Thanks so much, that really means a lot! That was actually my favorite part to write :D**

**Oryt: Thanks a lot! And I may consider having Mal rough him up a bit in future chapters ;). Anyways, you may not remember this, but a while ago you mentioned the book _Before I Go To Sleep_ in a comment in another story. Thanks so much for mentioning it! I just started reading it over the weekend, and I'm already 3/4 of the way through it! I can't put it down, thanks so much for telling me about it!**

**adritaco25: Thanks so so much! I look forward to hearing your thoughts as the story progresses!**

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I can't watch this anymore. I leave the cliffside again, it's late, I don't think anything interesting will happen. What if Mal ended up getting hurt because of this? I could never forgive myself if that happened, but at the same time, I don't think Mal would forgive himself if he let my killer get away. I walk back what I think is the same way I had gone with Mel, and it doesn't take me long to get back. I don't see Mel when I return, but I can hear something. A child's laugh. One of a young girl. I follow it, and it's not long until I reach a large and sturdy cherry-blossom tree. A single tire-swing dangles from one of the thickest branches, and despite the fact that it's October on earth, the tree's petals rain down endlessly like snow. Theres a small girl on the swing, whom I immediately recognize as Katelyn Keehl, the girl who had been drowned by the same man who had killed me. Her thin white-blonde hair is pulled into a pony-tail, but it's caught on something. A necklace I think, because it's hidden by her little purple T-shirt. She's struggling to push herslef off the ground on the swing, her legs are too short.

I realize with a sharp pang of longing that I never had children of my own. It wasn't really something that consumed my mind, but every girl grows up with the idea that they'll start a family one day. It's more so something I feel like I'm missing out. I'll never feel a warm bundle of joy in my arms, being able look down and say_ "she has my eyes"_ or _"he has my nose_". I'll never have the experience of scooping a crying toddler in my arms, knowing I'm the only one who can put a band-aid on a scraped knee, kiss it, and make it better. I never even started to concider these things, even if I did one day start a family, who would it be with? Most people would expect me to say Oscar, and I feel somewhat guilty when I push that thought away. Looking back, I should have known it would never work out. I trusted him once, and the feeling was mutual. But after I was forced to interrogate him, that was gone. I tried to fix it, but I should have known deep-down that it was too broken to be put back together.

"Hey, lady!"

I pull myself from my thoughts, looking up to see Katelyn's eyes are locked on me. "You push me!" she says, eagerly rocking back and forth. I shake my head, but she insists. "Please?".

I look at her large pleasing eyes, unable to say no. How could I? After all, it was because I wasn't quick enough that she's dead.

"Hold on" I say dully, moving behind her and shoving the back of her swing, hard. All she needed was someone to start her momentum, and after a moment she's swinging high in the air, giggling merrily as her feet brush the lower branches. I can't help but smile as I see the simplicity of her joy.

"Have you seen my daddy?" she asks, but there isn't a worry in her voice.

"No" I say quietly, and I can feel my smile falter slightly. Her father's still alive, she probably won't see him for a long time.

"Oh, okay".

I don't even think before I say "Where's your mother?".

"I don't know. Daddy says mummy doesn't love us anymore".

"But I bet daddy still loves you"

"A whole lots!" Katelyn says, still swinging. "I see him sometimes, that's why I'm looking for him. He can't find me, and I know he's really sad. But my new mummy's always with him. She tells him I'm okay".

I can't help but smile, but still something bugs me. Why is she here? I had expected, since I was dead, to see people I had long since lost. Ken, my friend from college and a grandfather I lost as a small child. Why aren't they here with me, while this little girl is? I step back and watch her joy-filled face, and as I look at this it's impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I wish it was this simple to make the frowns disappear on the faces of the people I left behind, a simple push on a swing. I miss the little things that made Mal smile, and I wish I could tell him that.

"He won't be able to let you go, until you let go of him".

I whip around, startled. Mel's behind me, watching the girl with slight amusement. "What do you mean?".

"It's not the living that don't know how to let go, it's the dead. When you can accept what's happened to you, it'll be better. Unless you really love someone down there…you need to let go".

I stare at him strangely. Move on? How could I ever do that? I need to watch Mal, to know that he's safe. I can't go on, not knowing. "I can't" I say.

"Why not?"

I bite my lip, unsure how to say it. What I'm thinking…is it even possible?

"Go on, say it" Mel presses.

"I can't"

"Say it!"

But I don't. I back away. I can't say it, I just can't. I turn on heel and sprint, running back to the cliff side. I can feel warm tears rolling down my cheeks, but I don't stop, not even to check if Mel's pursuing me. I run straight to my destination, never looking back, trying not to think about what Mel said. But he already raised a question in my mind, and it's as I look down at Mal that the question resurfaces.

'_Can you fall in love with someone after you're dead?_'

Maybe that love was always there. Maybe it just needed a little encouragement. If what Mel says is true…I can never let go of Mal. I won't, not until the day he dies. And not even then.

Morning has already come again, but Mal's not at work. He's at the very dock that I was pushed off of, staring down at the blood-stained wood. He glances occasionally down at the water, as if expecting me to resurface and breathe again. But I know something's wrong, there's someone standing behind him. And they're too close, too well-hidden to be there for any benign reason.

"You aren't any fun, you know" a disembodied voice says. I know it's from whoever's been watching Mal, that they've been waiting for someone to return here.

I expected Mal to jump at the sudden sound of another's voice, but from the calmness of his voice I can tell he knew he was being watched. "I'm not here for your amusement. And neither was Natara, or that little girl. We're not part of your little game".

Mal turns around slowly, and it makes me nervous that his back is to the open ocean behind him. The voice's owner steps out of the mist, and I can see it's the same man who killed me. The same cold, uncaring eyes. The same look of faint amusement. He limps slightly on his right side, and it's clear something on his right ribcage is bothering him. I can't help but feel a slight amount of pride, as it's my doing. He walks to the end of the dock, a light smirk on his face. He's obviously been planning this for a long time, waiting for someone to come alone to the scene of my death. Possibly to send a message.

'_How could you be so stupid?_' I ask Mal in my mind, but I have a feeling he planned this visit just to draw my killer out.

My killer cautiously bends down as he reaches the place where the wooden dock begins, not taking his eyes off Mal. I can see he has a gun now, and I recognize it immediately. My gun hadn't fallen into the water, he must have picked it up, because it's my gun in his holster. He reaches his fingers between two of the wooden boards of the dock, pulling something tiny and gold out of the crack. It's a locket, in the shape of a heart. Standing out againt the gold heart is a tiny, blue, rimestone 'K'. I know now what Katelyn's hair was caught on earlier.

"I left this for you" he says as he shows it off to Mal, his voice filled with a sickening tone of amusement. "It was clue, but you didn't find it".

"A clue, huh? I figured that was cheating".

"Sometimes you need to cheat to win".

"Did you cheat when you killed Katelyn? What'd you do, pick her off some playground somewhere so you could start your little game? She was six years old for God's sake!" Mal says.

"Shut up! She lost the game, and if she was smart, she wouldn't have lost! That's how we sort out those who are intelligent enough to live, and those who are stupid enough to die!".

"Oh, and Natara was stupid, was she? She was smarter than you!".

"Shut up, I'm better than you! I'm better than her! If I wasn't, she wouldn't have lost!" My killer cries.

But Mal doesn't shut up, he keeps going. "She was smarter than you! She put some of the most intelligent killers behind bars! And you'll end up the same way!".

"Shut up, she didn't know anything!"

"Could someone who didn't know anything have stopped the Maskmaker? Or how about the Hunters?".

"Shut up!" he snaps again.

"Or what about Zero? Or the Ladykiller? Let's face it, you're no different! You'll end up just like the others, you'll—".

It all happens so fast. My killer reaches for his gun, or more accurately, what was my gun. Mal reaches for his, but it's too late. Before he his gun even makes it out of its holster my killer has fired once, twice, three times at Mal's chest.

"No!" I scream, unable to control myself. Mal doubles over, the blue of his shirt quickly staining crimson. The hand that had reached to his holster drops, and Mal collapses to his knees, clutching his chest. He falls on his side, curled up around his wound like an injured animal. My killer reaches over and grabs Mal's exposed gun, carful to kick his face a few times as he does so. Without a second glance he turns, both guns in hand, calmly walking away.

"Mal!" I scream, but I know he can't hear me. "You can't die!".

But he's bleeding, too much, too fast. A pool of blood is already forming, making the dock slick once again with the dark red substance. Mal's eyes close, no sound escaping his lips.

"No! Mal!" I howl, crying like the wounded animal I feel like I've become.

"Natara" I hear Mel's voice call. He grabs my shoulder, pulling me slightly. No so much an act of force, but more so of guidance. "Natara, there's nothing you can do".

He tries to pull me away, but I don't let him. "No, I can't leave him! I can't!" I say as I quickly turn to him. I turn back, screaming as if someone will hear my voice and come and help. "Mal! Please, somebody!" I cry. If I could, I would tell everyone in the world where he is. Then, maybe, someone could help him. "Please, anybody!" I yell, but I'm quickly losing control of my voice. My words are becoming lost in my sobs, quickly becoming something that no one would understand.

"Please…" I manage to choke out before my sobbing takes over. I shut my eyes tightly, I can't take it anymore. I just can't watch him die like this, while I just sit here and do nothing. My only hope is that someone heard the gunshot. That someone, somewhere knows Mal's in trouble.

"Please…" I say again, this time opening my eyes turning to Mel, as if he can do something. "I can't lose him".

"Tell me why"

"Mel…"

"Say it!"

"Because I love him!" I yell suddenly, my voice cracking from my sobs. I squeeze my eyes shut again, unable to take it. "I love him" I say again, this time whispering. That's when I hear it.

Sirens, the sound of emergency vehicles.

* * *

**Please don't kill me for the way I ended this chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much to _bananaballer13_, _Cool22hd_ and _mozzi-girl_ for reviewing!**

* * *

It takes four nerve-racking hours until Mal's stable. It was a little old woman, who was on an evening stroll, who heard the shots. She called it in, and soon after the police and an ambulance were dispatched. They only just reached Mal just in time, but it wasn't over yet. Two of the bullets missed his vital organs. The last bullet had just grazed his heart. Two centimeters to the right, his aorta would have been pieced and he would have been a goner. Two centimeters to the left and he wouldn't be nearly in as much danger as he is now. I kept watching him, pressing my nails into my palms in anxiety until it was over. He's stable now, and has a fairly good chance of survival. I feel like I've achieved some sort of victory, like it was I who had survived. But something still eats away at me. If Mal had put his life on the line just to draw my killer out…how far would he go to actually catch him? It was already not worth it, if no one had heard those gunshots Mal would be dead. And that's not what I want, it's not what's best for him. He needs to live, to fill out the rest of his life, even if I can't.

For now though, the only thing I can see is the large oxygen mask over his bruised and bloody face, and hear the steady beat of a heart monitor. There's nothing left to watch, and I shakily pick myself up. I force myself not to look back as I walk away, and before I know it there's someone walking with me.

"He almost died, you know" Mel says. I wish he would walk normally and with better posture, he's nearly as tall as me, but with the way he walks and stands I have to look down to talk to him. Maybe this is why I was under the immediate impression that he was so young.

"I know. I can't let it happen again".

"There's nothing you can do about it". He doesn't say it in a taunting way, but nevertheless it still gets to me. Is he trying to make me feel worse? "He's so close to death…" Mel says, and the voice that he uses is so lifeless and empty. He stops walking suddenly, and at first I don't see it. I'm several feet away when I realize he's not with me, and I turn around to face him. "Remember the tree where you saw Katelyn earlier? The cherry-blossom tree?" I nod slightly "Go there".

"Why?"

"Just go. Now".

Before I can ask another question he walks in the other direction, as if forgetting where he was originally supposed to be. Finding no good reason to not do what he says, I head in the direction of where I saw Katelyn earlier. She isn't there, and her swing is gone also. But the tree still sheds its petals, and they still float through the air like snow. There's nothing else here…so why did Mel tell me to come here? Deciding I might as well wait and see if anything happens, I walk over to the thick trunk and lean against it. And that's when I see it, a figure walking towards me from a hill in the distance. At first I think it's Mel…but this person walks normally, without the slight hunch that Mel has. It's as they near that their features become more apparent. Dark brown hair, somewhat around my height. When I realize who it is, utter shock hits me like a slap across the face. Mel said Mal was so close to death. When I died, I had brushed him. Could he have done the same to me, only the other way around? The living brushing the dead?

I know who it is as they come closer, and I step out from under the tree's shade so they know that I'm here. As he gets closer, Mal's face is stuck in a look of utter shock. It's not surprising, considering he knows I'm dead. There's a moment where the world freezes, where Mal's only a few meters in front of me and we only stare each other. He's not the bloody, beaten-up Mal I saw earlier. He looks the same as the last time I saw him while I was alive, there's even a slight smile on his face mingled with the shock. He takes a few steps closer, starting to raise a hand as if to touch me and make sure I'm real, but drops it quickly. It looks like he's afraid to touch me, as if afraid if he does I'll turn into dust and be swept away by the wind. Or worse, he thinks his hand will go right through me, as if I'm a ghost.

"It's been a while" I say softly, even though it's only been a few days. But it feels like it's been a lifetime, my lifetime.

"You–you're dea—" he starts, but can't seem to form that one four letter word. He stops for a moment, as if expecting I'll disappear if he mentions that I died. "—A ghost" he manages instead.

Was I a ghost? I know I'm dead, but it doesn't really seem to be the right word. It doesn't feel right, and I don't want him thinking this. Hoping with all my heart this will work, I gently place my hand just below his jaw line. "My hand is warm" I say, hoping that it is. I can't really be sure "How can I be a ghost?".

I can feel the tension in his jaw, the same stiffness that every man seems to carry their face. His jaw barely moves as he speaks, his words only escaping through slightly parted lips "I can't believe it's really you".

"It is, it's really is me".

I slide the hand that's on his face around his neck, throwing my other arm around it too. His hands cup my shoulder blades, holding onto me as if afraid I'll slip away. I realize exactly what it is that I miss about life, the things that seem to be missing in death. I can feel his heart beat, the warmth of his skin. His breath is warm on my neck, and I can feel the cotton of his shirt against my skin. His muscles tense as he squeezes me slightly, and I realize his body still radiates with life. He doesn't belong here anymore than I would if I would have 'visited' him in the world of the living. But for a moment, I feel like I don't belong here either. For just a brief moment, I feel like I'm alive again.

"I saw his face" he says softly "I'm not giving up until I find him".

I can feel my smile falter slightly. Is he really still thinking of that now? He nearly died trying to catch my killer only hours earlier, how could that still be the only thing on his mind?

"Mal…does that really matter?".

His grip on my back lessens, and I pull back so I can look him in the eyes.

"What do you mean? He killed you in cold blood Natara! How can you expect me to just let him go?". That sentence feels awkward to me for some reason. I never thought I'd be able to discuss my own death. I expected to be too…well, dead, to talk about it.

"Does it really matter now? What's done is done!".

But he keeps talking and our words overlap, making it impossible for us to understand each other.

"But he—"

"—Mal, I watched as you almost—"

"—I can't just let him—"

I let go if him briefly, then grab him roughly by the shoulders to force him to look me in the eyes. "I can't watch that again!" I yell, shaking him slightly. "I just can't. If you died because of this…I wouldn't be able to stand it".

There's an awkward silence between us, I hadn't realized how loud I had shouted. In an effort to calm me down, Mal gently brushes the side of his hand on my cheek, stopping and holding it just below my eye. His hands are warm, and I know beneath his skin hot blood flows through his veins. I want to put my hand over his, so I can hold onto a piece of life and never let go. Or even do this as an act of affection, hold his hand there to show him that I like it. That I want him to keep it there. But I don't. Even though I'm dead and literally have nothing to lose, I don't do it. I have no idea if the feeling I have is mutual, for all I know this is simply an act of comfort from one friend to another. Yes, I was a profiler, and I did think I saw something in Mal's eyes when he looked at me. But it's possible it was only wishful thinking, or I could even be wrong. Still, I can't risk it. He's all I have anymore, and I can't lose him in this way or any other.

"Just let it die, Mal" I say "let it go, don't let him get to you. Don't let him get you too".

There's a pause, and after a moment he says "You know I can't do that, it's not who I am. I'll spend every day thinking of how I let him get away. Of how he killed you, and I just let him go. Do you really want me to live like that?".

His hand is sliding down from my cheek, slowly leaving it. I want to take it, make it stay so maybe the person attached to it will too. But that's not fair to either of us. Mal can't stay, because he still belongs among the living. This is only a visit.

A warm breeze makes the leaves rattle above us, and a sudden wave of petals fall. Several fall in Mal's hair, and I can't help but smile at this. He reaches over and brushes a few out if my hair, but it's useless because they'll just be replaced by more later. He's fighting a losing battle, but I don't stop him.

"I guess I have to go then, don't I?".

I'm relived I don't have to tell him to leave myself, but I still feel a slight twinge of regret. Why can't we just stay like this forever? Why can't we freeze this moment and live in it until the day Mal dies? But I know the answer, he's alive, and I'm not. I can't think like this, it'll just wear me down. I mean, what did I expect? That we'd stay like this, grow old here together? Wither away in each others arms while we sleep like in _The Notebook_? That's impossible, I don't even know if I age anymore, and death has already come for me.

"I guess so". I close my eyes, silently wishing to myself that he won't go. For a moment I think my wish has come true, but when I open my eyes I see that he's gone. I look around, almost expecting to see him walking away, but I don't even see any evidence to show that he was even here. He's gone, he left without a trace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much to _mozzi-girl_ for reviewing!**

* * *

On October twenty-fourth, the day I would have turned thirty-three, I got the best birthday gift I could have ever gotten; Mal opened his eyes for the first time since he had been shot. One of his eyes is so swollen he can barely open it, and there are cuts all over his face, but it hardly matters. He's alive! Mel's with me as I watch this, and I even see a slight smile on his normally emotionally devoid face. It suddenly hit me why he asked me to call him Mel, and it had nothing to do with it being short for a name. It was short for the one word that describes him. Mellow.

After Mal awakens it's clear his recovery will be quick, he was even told he could return home in less than a week! He didn't mention anything about seeing me, and I took it as either he didn't remember, didn't want people to think him crazy or believes it to be a drug-induced dream. I hope for the second one, because then he would know that I was okay with him letting my killer go.

I get another surprise later the same day. I had been sitting by the cherry tree, thinking wishfully of the time I had seen Mal here, when I heard a voice call my name.

"Natara!"

My head snapped up, and I could see someone running to me from the same hill I had seen Mal come from. She looked the same way she had the day she died my sophomore year in college. She still had the ripped jeans, crimped hair and short boots that defined the late 90's. She still looked to be only nineteen years old.

"Missy!" I yelled, remembering the nickname I had for her. She had always hated her real name; Melissa, and insisted on people calling her this, saying she was going to reinvent herself now that she was in college.

She slowed down as she came closer, and unceremoniously sat down next to me as if she did so every day. When I notice what she's wearing it feels as if a heavy weight has dropped in my stomach. Her dark red hair is pulled up partially into a messy bun, and the strands that she missed rest gently on the Beatles T-shirt she's wearing; these are the clothes she died in.

"It's been so long!" she says. I can't help but smile as I hear her voice, it has been a long time, and I had forgotten what it sounded like. It still had that same lighthearted quality to it, and she still spoke in a way that anything she said could instantly become an inside joke. I don't know what to say back to her, where do I begin? I'm sorry I wasn't there? I'm sorry I didn't think anything of it when you didn't show up to class that fateful morning?

But before I can even say anything, she says "I'm sorry".

"No" I say "I'm sorry. I should have known something was up when you didn't come back from talking with Pete." I could feel myself choking up. Even if I apologized until the end of time, how could I ever make amends for what I did? I knew she was in an abusive relationship with Pete, why did I let her go to tell him she was breaking up with him alone?

"It wasn't your fault. But if I had lived, you wouldn't have gone chasing after him. You wouldn't have joined the FBI, and maybe we would both been alive".

I looked down at my feet. I could remember when I had heard of Missy's death. I remember grief exploding inside of me, but there was something else there too. Anger, a thirst for the blood of my friend's killer. I would have done anything to make it so Pete was dead and Missy was not, but catching him was as close as I could come. Is this how Mal feels? Is history only repeating itself?

"Natara?" she says softly. It was rare that I heard her acquire such a soft tone. "I've wanted to say this for a long time…I want to thank you for what happened at my funeral".

I find myself biting my lip, the memory of that day is sharp, too sharp. Missy's body was so badly damaged that they had her cremated rather than actually having a burial. I was there, and I remember how I was forcing myself not to cry. Missy's sister, only nine years old, was positively sobbing. I can imagine why, her big sister was about to be turned to dust. And what else could I say to comfort her, except for telling her that I would catch who did this? If it were my little sister, then I'm sure Missy would have done the same for me. I think this is really why I did what I did. Not so much for Missy, but for that little girl.

"It was nothing"

"It was everything" she corrects me.

We sit in silence for a while, until she says softly "You know I can't stay".

"I know"

She gets up slowly, but before she walks away she says "Thank you".

"No" I say "I should be thanking you". If I hadn't joined the FBI, I wouldn't have met Mal. I wouldn't have grown to love San Francisco. Everything that had happened in my life, everything I had lost, it had all been worth it. She had opened my eyes.

She smiles, not the rather tired-looking smile she had when she started dating Pete, but the full, cheerful one that makes her face light up. I manage to smile back, and I'm about to tell her how she had changed my life, but I blink; and in that split second she's gone.

* * *

A week passed, then another. Slowly, Mal got stronger, healing more and more every day. I felt like I was a child again, when one of the horses I had as a child had given birth to a foal. I helped raised him, watching as he got stronger every day. I felt that same sense of accomplishment now, even though I had done nothing. The fact that Mal was alive filled me with a kind of light. All was going well, that is, until Mal's cell phone rang only the day before he was cleared to return to work.

"Hello?" he said as he picked it up.

"Mal?"

It was Amy's voice, and I felt a sudden surge of fear. There can only be one reason why she's calling him. It feels like my blood has just gone cold, and I feel the light that had seemed to fill me up extinguish.

"Mal…I can't tell you where I am, or what I'm doing. But I've been looking for Natara's killer myself, and I think I've found him".

'_Please_' I think '_Let her be wrong'._

But I know Amy's hardly ever wrong, and that she's most likely uncovered something.

"I was looking for other crimes similar to what happened to Natara, and I found something. There have been several missing child cases in Nevada, Arizona and Oregon. Each one the child ended up dying, just after being put in a dangerous situation. Every one became a double homicide when someone, citizens, police or paramedics, tried to help and were killed in the struggle".

"So he's using kids to lure people out to kill them, using people's sense of compassion against them" he says.

"Exactly, and that's not all I have. Two days ago, seven-year-old Thomas Nelson was abducted while walking home from his school. Hours before that, the school got an odd call from a blocked number asking when the school let out. No one thought much of it, but when I looked through the phone records I got the number and traced it to a land line from a hotel room. I managed to find out exactly what room it came from, and when I got into the hotel records, I found that that same room has been occupied by the same person for almost a month now".

"You get a name?"

"No, they payed in cash and didn't make a reservation".

I can only watch as Amy gives him the address, and I wish with all my heart that she will stop. It's not her fault, she has some of the same desire to bring my killer to justice as Mal. I just want Mal to be safe, and as bad as I want him here with me, my desire is destroyed by the fact that I want him to live.


	6. Chapter 6

**Oryt: Thanks so much! Hehe…Nerd rage XD**

**mozzi-girl: Thanks so much! The thing with Missy was really just a last-minute thing I used to make the chapter longer O.o but I'm glad you liked it!**

**Dioamondsintherough: I was actually thinking about doing something like that, but was afraid people might start raging if I did O.o little bit of mindReading there! Anyways, I guess you'll soon find out how I decided to end it…**

* * *

It takes everything I have not to pound the ground in frustration. Didn't he understand me? Didn't he listen? I can't take it anymore! I can't stand watching life through a one-way mirror, watching helplessly as days go by! If I was alive I would have grabbed Mal and made him stay put! I would have told him he was an idiot, handcuffed him to a chair; anything to keep him from hurting himself! The worst part is I have no one to blame but my myself. If I had only fought a little harder, not allowed my killer to get the upper hand, then Mal wouldn't be on this suicide-mission! I almost can't stand to watch as Mal, holding a slip of paper of which the information Amy had given him was written, runs out to his car. I don't know how Mal knew Jeremy Redbirds number, but he called him to tell him what he was doing. It was a short conversation, Mal simply asked him if he was still in on trying finding my killer. Jeremy responded with a hesitant 'Yes'. So Mal told him where to meet him, adding at the end "And bring a gun".

And so, all I can do is watch as he pulls up to the building outside, stepping out to see Redbird waiting by his car. He fidgets slightly, clearly nervous about what's about to take place.

"I'm hoping you have a plan" he says as Mal approaches.

"I do, whether you agree with it or not is the problem".

Jeremy leans back against his car "I'm listening".

"Amy was able to get a blueprint of the basic layout of the building. Our 'suspect' is in room 13, on the first floor. If you go in the alleyway just to the left of this building, there's a window. Fourth one down. When you get there, check inside and open it a little if you can. I'll lure him out, make sure it's really him and make sure the kid's out of the way. If you hear me say the words 'Let it die', no matter what the circumstance, identify your target and shoot". I begin to bite my nails, something I had never done, even as a child. Mal said the signal was 'let it die'. I had said those words to him when I last saw him, so this could only mean one thing...He remembers.

"No matter what?"

"Yes"

"And if the kid's in the way?"

"He won't be, I'll make sure of it before I give you the signal".

"And if you're in the way?"

"I'll try not to be"

"But if you are?"

Mal pauses for a moment, then says "It's a risk I'm willing to take".

'_No!'_ I want to scream at him, and I slam my hands down on the ground in frustration. Why? Why was he so intent on finding him? Why can't he let it go? I can hear Mel come up behind me, but he doesn't do anything but watch with me. Everything happens so fast, Mal gave Jeremy as few minutes to find where he was supposed to wait before he went to find the room. On the outside the rooms looked like miniature cabins, one story and glued together on the sides. The hotel was two stories, with no main building. Each person had a tiny miniature porch, and if you were lucky enough to be on the end, like my killer, you had a window to both the side and the front. I hope very much that the door is locked, that my killer isn't present. But the door is slightly ajar, possibly and attempt to coax the muggy California-November air into creating a light breeze in the room. And so it's easy for Mal to draw his gun, pushing the door open to slowly slip in. The place seems almost abandoned, and I hope very much that it is.

"I thought I'd be seeing you soon".

My heart seems to fall to my stomach, shattering into a million pieces on the way down. I would know that voice anywhere, and even though I know he can't hurt me it still gives me chills. Without even flinching Mal turns around, and I desperately want to tell him to move. By the way he's standing, he's blocking the window. My killer was standing, hidden by shadow, in the corner of the room. Jeremy would be able to see them both, but Mal's preventing him from having a clear shot. My killer's still using my gun, and it disgusts me slightly that he still has it, but I can't explain why.

"I knew as soon as you recovered you'd come after me, and you would want the satisfaction if killing me yourself. You've come here alone".

I can't help but feel a slight tinge of hope. Jeremy's hiding just below the window, and if Mal would just move he would have a clear shot.

As if he was having the same thoughts as me, Mal tries to slowly move away.

"No! Don't move!" my killer hisses.

"Where's the kid?" Mal says darkly, clearly stalling for time.

"Don't worry, I put him right back where I found him this morning. I've been making you my main focus, having you as a player has been most…interesting". He smiles, a charismatic and charming smile that doesn't belong on someone like him.

"I'm sick of your little game" Mal says darkly "What you call intelligence, I call cruel. It's desensitizing. It's like you're trying to make everyone as uncaring and soulless as possible". Despite the fear that overwhelms me, I feel a slight surge if pride. It was excellent profiling, something I think he may have picked up from me. "I want to know why…why did you kill her?". The anger and disgust is so evident in his voice that I'm shocked my killer doesn't just cower at it and surrender.

"You'll forgive me later. The real world has no room for such weaklings".

"I'll never forgive you"

"Fine then, kill me. If you're so strong, so willing to take the risk, kill me. Maybe I'll be fast enough to shoot you, maybe I won't".

I know what Mal's about to do, I can see it in his face for just a brief moment. But it's gone in an instant, and my killer doesn't pick up on it. "This game of yours is cruel and unfair. You think you're special, when really you're the same as the rest if us, if not lower. This stupid idea of yours…it's better if you'd just _let it die_".

Time slows to a crawl. I can hear myself screaming, but I don't know what. My mind flashes back to when I shot Shawn to save that baby, only this time I'm merely an observer. Jeremy pops over the edge of the window. His eyes fly briefly to Mal, then to my killer, and he shoots. The noise seems to fill the world, and the bullet passes right through Mal's neck and into the temple of my killer. I know both of them are dead, even before they fall to the floor, before Jeremy hops in the window and checks for a pulse. Blood pools on the tile floor, Mal's mixing with my killers. A friends blood mixing with an enemy's. I'm aware that I'm screaming, but I can't hear myself. The sound of a panicked bird's flapping wings fills my ear, and for a moment I think I might go crazy. I hear Mel's reassuring voice say something, but I don't care. Doesn't he get it? I don't care, I don't want to feel anymore! I just want it all to end! Mel touches my shoulder trying to console me, but as soon as he touches me pain shoots through my back. It feels like lightning has stuck my spine, or like my whole body has been snapped in half. My head feels like it's about to explode, and the next thing I know the ground is coming up to meet me.

* * *

I can feel a deep ache running the length of my back, and I can't suppress the soft groan of pain that escapes my lips. It feels like my head is too big for my body, and my first thought is maybe that's why I'm lying down. My hair is damp, I can feel a single strand stuck to my face. The smell of the sea is so strong, and I can't help but wonder why. I slowly open my eyes, but the only thing I can see is the light and floaty material of a curtain fluttering in the breeze. I can hear something happening beside me, but I can't turn my neck for some reason.

"'Afternoon sleeping beauty" I hear a sarcastic voice say.

I look to the right of me in the corner of my eye, and I see Mal smiling down at me. I wonder how long he's been waiting for me to wake up so he could say that. He's smiling, and his hair and clothes are damp, but I neither wonder not care why. He's alive! Somehow, he's miraculously alive. I can feel my heartbeat quicken—

_My heartbeat._

I realize, like him, I'm drawing in breath too. I take several deep breaths, just to make sure it's real, and find that it is.

"Hey, Doc.!" Mal calls to someone in the distance.

I look once again in the corner of my eye, and I can see a man in a lab coat walking towards me. I try and see what he looks like, but before I do he's shining a bright light in my eyes.

"No concussion" he says calmly. I know that voice, that calm and silvery tone, even before the light is turned off.

The doctor is young, or so I think. His face is ageless, his hair and odd roan color that hides any grey hair he might have. His eyes are amber, and he walks with a slight hunch as if it would pain him to stand up straight.

"Mel?" I say without thinking.

He gives me a peculiar look, then says "Yes, Doctor Mellow Amane…Can I ask how you know that?".

"You…you just looks like…someone I knew…" I stutter. My neck is killing me, and pain grips the back of my head like a giant fist grabbing my hair. Mellow makes a quick note on some sort of paper on a nearby counter, then leaves.

"What happened?" I ask softly "The last thing I remember is being pushed off the docks".

"You fell straight down and hit your head on a rock, ended up fracturing your neck. You needed some stitches from where you got hit pretty bad in the back if your head too. I dove in after you and and managed to get you out, but you were hurt pretty bad. But you and the little girl are okay".

"Katelyn's okay?" I ask timidly.

I can see the question of how I know Katelyns name on Mal's face, but all he says is "Yeah, she's fine. Little traumatized, but fine. We caught who did this two, he's probably being interrogated as we speak".

"How long was I out?"

"About five hours. You stopped breathing for a few minutes, scared the crap out of me".

A few minutes? How is that even possible? I was dead and gone for weeks! But it hardly matters to me now, only one thing runs through me head.

Mal saved my life. Maybe in more ways than I could imagine.

"When was it that I stopped breathing?"

"You weren't when I pulled you out of the water".

I can imagine it now, him diving in to save me. Us sharing a single breath. If I could move my neck I would want our lips to find each other again, not to revive, but to show something. But at this very moment, because of him, we have years; decades to figure that out.

I'm aware that his hand is in mine, something I suppose was something he did while I was knocked out to show me that he was there. Looking slightly awkward, he tries to withdraw it, but I curl my fingers around his. I want him to keep it there. His hand is warm, and I know beneath his skin hot blood flows. And now, I know it's the same for me.


End file.
